Damian's Magical Cat
by lovelyrutabagas
Summary: Damian finds a fat cat on his windowsill. It may or may not be magic.


After patrol, all Damian wants to do is lay back on his bed and relax.

He gets about five steps into his room when he hears scratching from outside his window, coupled with pitiful whining. Damian knows that sound.

The sound of a wounded animal, desperately holding onto life.

His heart aches within his chest, and he doesn't hesitate to throw open his window, and peer over the sill. Heart thumping wildly, Damian's fingers twitch against the glass, and his hands tighten.

It's absolutely hideous.

With orange fur tangled with mud and leaves, (and, now that he notices its missing eye, most likely blood) the cat has obviously seen better days. At least, he thinks it's a cat. It could be an exceptionally large rat, genetically engineered by some scientist in Gotham; or, a small dog, though Damian can't imagine how it got to his window on the third floor of the manor.

It looks up at him with its lone hazel eye, and Damian doesn't bother hiding his disgust.

Disgust at this creature that dared to live, when it was so clearly was on the verge of death, and plead for help with its eye.

Disgust at himself because he's already stretching his arms out for it to jump into them, and Damian anticipates the smell and its weight, but not its claws, and they hurt more than they should. Like knives in his arms, Damian feels himself slowing, sluggishly dragging his arms against the windowsill as he carries the heavy animal with its sharp claws.

Damian manages to set the animal on his bed, and then sinks to the floor, back against the mattress. He blinks slowly, tired.

Before he falls asleep, the animal burrows its paws into his hair, and purrs loud enough that he can feel it in his toes. He feels… content.

…

Damian wakes up to something biting his ear.

It doesn't hurt, and it takes him a few moments to gather himself from the floor. He sits up, stretches languidly, and then twists around to come face to face with the ugly, orange beast from last night.

Though, in the morning light, Damian can see its empty eye socket shows that it was removed carefully, not torn out as he had initially thought. He eyes it with barely concealed distrust.

It mewls back at him, and licks his nose.

"Ugh." Rolling his eyes, Damian gets up from the floor and heads to the bathroom. There's a thump from behind, signaling his newest guest is following him, and Damian turns around swiftly, an order to _stay_ dying on his lips.

It's gone.

Damian almost gapes, but catches himself before his jaw can drop.

He glances around the room, noting every nook and cranny that it could have slithered in while his back was turned. He doesn't see it.

With one last suspicious look around the room, Damian turns on his heel and nearly screams. It was right.

In.

Front of him.

Looking innocent, and unaware of the mini-heart attack it had caused him, it winks.

Winks.

At _him_.

Damian flushes bright red, and crouches down to its level. He glares at it, and sneers.

"I don't know how you did it, you little _rat,_ but I will not tolerate this behavior from you." He scowls at it, and then holds his arms open to it. It jumps into his arms with a soft purr, and Damian carries it into the bathroom.

"You're getting a bath, and I'm burning those sheets and my clothes," he tugs the animal closer to his chest, and begins to fill up the tub.

Maybe it's the sound of rushing water; maybe it's the fact that Damian was dumb enough to announce his plans to the beast; but, for whatever the reason, the animal is quick to dig its claws into his arms, and attempt to run away from him.

In his infinite wisdom, Damian chose to hold on, and the ugly animal let out an ungodly wail.

Damian clutches it, and it does its best to claw out of his arms; still wailing, like it was dying.

"It's, just a, ugh, dumb bath!" His hands slip, and it slides out of his arms. It lands on the expensive tile, scruffy tail fluffy as it can manage to be with mud caked in it. As it made its way out the open door, it looks over its shoulder, and Damian knows, he _knows_ , dammit, that that stupid beast was giving him the smuggest look possible.

Damian hisses at it, and is only a little surprised when it simply sashays out of the bathroom.

"Tch. Stupid cat."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Damian slips on the (what he thought was _dry_ ) tile and falls into the tub of water.

Dammit.

…

an- so who's the dummy who decided to start another story instead of workin on the multiple ones I've got open? this guy!

but seriously, my boi dami is adorable and needs all the love and happiness in the world, and so I gave him a cat


End file.
